A sheet of cool South Carolina winter rain painted the pavement about three feet behind me while we huddled in lawn chairs under the eaves of the church. It was the final evening session of the Harvest Alliance Leaders Conference, and I sat with Kathy, Bill and Marilee preparing to reflect on the week so far. Around this moment, after some banter and prayer, I was overcome by a vivid, weighty realization: that I belong. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but the moment hit me with the weight of a much larger story.
I’ve been attending New Day (when food was provided) for over 13 years. I was first welcomed in by Elaine Stryker who greeted me at the door, and Emilee Lawrence who invited me to Friendsgiving Dinner. Then Chloe, who made spaghetti before Seth and Sarah’s group started at 6. When I transitioned to the Nichols campus, Carrie let me lead a worship team. Cameron still gives me credit (partially deserved) for designing the coffee bar at the Vine campus. And Bill and Marilee’s approval of my vision for the Young Adult group was bolstered by actual years of encouragement, hugs, hopeful conversations, and a relentless commitment to getting to know me. (And I didn’t make it easy. Pray for them!)
The whole community has repeatedly, emphatically affirmed their affection for years. They’ve entrusted me with two ministries (Worship and Young Adults group) that sit close to the heart of New Day’s mission. In their minds, I’m a pillar. I carry the vision. I’m part of the family. According to them, my inclusion was more than an offer, it was an assumption. As long as I’ve been around this church, I’ve belonged to it. And they’ve always said it.
Do you see how much I should NOT have been surprised, sitting with old friends at this leaders conference? All these years, all this evidence, and for some reason I still felt like an outsider. It must have been the Lord opening my eyes to see the whole story, that all this time I’d been sheltered from the rain with people who always loved and included me. The gravity of the moment spilled into teary eyes while I shared the feeling with my friends. Soon, all of our cheeks were as soaked as the pavement behind me.
It was only after years of staying put and serving where I could that I recognized the truth; that I belong. But you don’t have to wait 13 years. You belong. We want you here. You’re part of the family. And they’ve always said it.
Even the sparrow finds a home … at your altars,
O LORD of hosts, my King and my God.
— Psalm 84:3 (ESV)